


Mutilation Is The Most Sincere Form Of Flattery

by dianamolloy



Category: High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Cutting, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fingerfucking, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Rough Sex, S&M, Self-Harm, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianamolloy/pseuds/dianamolloy
Summary: An unlikely pact made between perfectionist Dr. Robert Laing and a starving Anna ends up extending beyond what either expected as they survive the High Rise in their own ways.





	1. The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> If you’re familiar with my work, read the tags as this has some content not everyone would want to or feel safe reading.
> 
> The title is a Manson song, I don’t consider it mutilation at all, it’s just a tongue in cheek.

The noise wouldn't let up, no matter what time of day there was a constant din. The residents of the High Rise had distinct schedules in an unspoken agreement that catered to the hierarchy in place and so activity hours would never overlap, irrespective of whether they would come into contact with anyone outside of their social echelon. The threat of invading and looting other floors had yet to occur but the tension bubbled under the surface. Nobody left the building any longer, they were reliant on what remained in the two supermarkets and there were reports that for those seeking fresh meat, the pets which had existed had met an untimely end. Anna, the twenty-nine year old mousey haired and full figured resident of level twenty-five, who was rather fond of dogs, was thankful that her old Boxer, Hank, had passed from old age a few months prior to the move. She tried not to dwell on the building’s animals since learning their fate too much. The only ones who appeared unaffected by the complete collapse of society lived on the top two floors, rumours circulated that they still received fresh produce so they had not quite reached the desperation of the lower floors and the only grime which existed were in their characters not habitat.

It could all be poppycock, lies to leave the lower classes further swelled with both awe and bitterness.

If so, it had worked.

And if it was the truth, well they were still resentful and angry but too disparate to form any kind of group required to storm the top tier.

She had no family, her elderly parents had not expected the bundle of joy that the stork had foisted upon them when her mother was forty-seven and her father sixty. An older brother, seventeen years her senior with whom she had little in common remained her last blood-relative but they didn't speak. He had moved out of the house by the time Anna was old enough to form memories and so the last time either had occupied in the same room had been during their mother’s funeral two years before, their father having gone half a decade earlier.

For Anna, as loud as her environment was, there was one sure activity which silenced everything else. The swipe of the fresh needle, carefully and reverently unwrapped from the medical paper and plastic, the plain casing belying the damage something which was no more than inches in length could and did do. Green and twenty-one gauge, so simple to slice the lines and the ability to go deeper, cut words, where a thicker needle would drag. Everyone had a favourite flavour ice cream, pizza and for some, cutting implements. No blades, no scalpels that was the promise. Scalpels left permanent lines, they sliced into the epidermis with little effort and the scars never faded, followed by questions, interventions and hospitals. Regardless of the depth of misery another true and fast rule was to not touch skin which had yet to heal, again: scars, intervention, et cetera. Anything which would put her at risk of having to stop Anna had thought through, not that in the High Rise anyone would look to obstruct her, there were none of the constraints of jobs and friends, of lovers which had made her more creative yet stifled. Tradition was tricky to break and so the rituals that were created and built up by her over the years remained in place, a comfort to correctly follow and terrible to get wrong.

The madness which everything had descended into was difficult to separate herself from in a literal sense, though Anna had somehow bypassed being engulfed by the chaos mentally, perhaps because she was always filled with internal entropy. She avoided her neighbours, staying away from their tumultuous orgies and leaving her flat only to replenish supplies, a knife tucked within easy reach but hidden by her calf length, brown leather boots. As one not consumed by the building the way the others had, Anna could have left but there was a sense of contentment to not be restricted by the laws of ordered life and Anna wondered if possibly there wasn't a part of her affected by the situation after all. 

Electricity had become intermittent but it allowed her to boil and sanitise water on the electric rings, what came out of the pipes was no longer suitable for human consumption as she had discovered first hand after a bout of vomiting and stomach cramps. Being ill was a weakness that one could not afford in the High Rise. Especially if you were alone, the monsters behind the shadows were always ready to pounce, she would hear their mad cries in the hallways and the horrified screams of the unlucky.

It was unfortunate that her unconventional routine was derailed when the food stores ran dry. The dirt and rubbish that had piled had attracted rodents but she was both too sentimental and squeamish to resort to that, despite the growing hunger gnawing at her. Had the building's self-contained community worked together, they might have utilised the roof garden to feed their population but in this id led compact universe, where desire and self interest won over the collective good, the top levels who had done just that did not share. Servants tended to the allotment created for little in return whilst the upper strata revelled the literal fruits of their labour between bouts of drinking, snorting what they could and fucking their own. The 'staff' could be abused, it was highly encouraged to do so, but nobody sunk to the depths of actually taking pleasure from their unwilling bodies; it was beneath them to mate with those so below their own. It may have been good enough for the nouveau-riche, but _they_ were part of the aristocracy. Anna knew that she shared a floor with a doctor, she had spied him once or twice, and part of the ever circulating rumours were that he was not short of supplies which he was willing to barter, what was unclear is what he wanted as the trade.

Finding herself faced with the prospect between having to try and obtain something to eat by force and visiting the doctor, Anna was stood outside of 2505 the very next day. She rapped lightly on the door and moments later it parted for her, a tall man with dark, strawberry blond hair and sharp features faced her. His clothes were paint spattered and there was a smear of it across his nose and left eye, as if it were a birthmark that had chameleoned itself into the brutalist aspects of its surrounding. She was fairly certain the stain was in the grey family but his crystal clear blue eyes made it hard to tell, they were the perfect shade of the sky on the brightest summer's day and right then she subconsciously wanted that warmth turned in her direction, but only polite interest was reflected back.

She expected him to say something but he simply stood observing and Anna was obligated to break the silence herself, "May I come in?"

Robert Laing thought through her request, he was a considered man and in this new world order even more so. His profession afforded him amnesty toward the more grim actions committed by the desperate and he had begun seeing patients, sectioning off a portion of his studio as a consulting room, though this was outside of his normal working hours and he did not appreciate the interruption. Still, part of being a doctor was expecting the unexpected and the girl seemed harmless so he stepped aside to let her pass, indicating with an arm for her to enter.

Inside Anna had to manoeuvre around debris, her stomach sinking at what was already proving to have been a stupid decision, this man may have an air of cool calm orbiting him but the filthy backdrop painted an entirely different picture on the canvas. There were two chairs and a makeshift table which was created from a door, clearly not his front entrance that had been shut to her, supported by boxes; she took the one which looked to be for visitors and contemplated simply leaving.

"What appears to be the problem, Miss...?" Robert had taken his own seat, expression and manner very much that of a physician despite the unconventional space and his appearance.

"I'm not, there's nothing wrong," Laing's impassive expression unsettled Anna. "The tenants have been exchanging food for your medical services and the market we have access to is essentially empty," he nodded in a bid to hurry her along. "I heard that you might be willing to trade some of what you have?"

"Did you now. Did you also hear what it was I required in return?" Anna shook her head in the negative. "My proficiency is tied with not letting my skills wither. Without access to a teaching hospital and properly treated cadavers at my disposal, I am forced to use a certain level of creativity in order to practice and remain at the level I owe myself and my patients. I would not cause you excess harm, cuts would be sutured to ensure minimum residual marks, small procedures that would leave no lasting damage and so forth. In return, for the duration of our agreement, you will be fed."

Anna took a moment for the words to sink in, "you want to cut into me?" her tone was incredulous.

"Not want, but essential as I have explained," Robert said, a measure of frustration escaped him at the unnecessary dramatics.

Now Anna really wanted to leave, kicking herself for listening to the gossip which had put her in this peculiar situation because had she not known, it would not have been an option and now that she did she knew it was her only one.

"When do you want to start?” She tried to sound calm but her voice wobbled. Why do this, if she left this terrible building she would have access to what she needed without these macabre antics. But that was the crux of it, she truly didn’t wish to go.

“You will eat today and return after my consulting hours in the morning, come by at seven.”

”Here?”

Laing shook his head, “that will not be necessary, I will package a few things for you to take with you.” He didn’t say but it was rather strange for her to think he would dine with a patient, odd girl.

Inside her own flat, Anna couldn’t bear to wait much longer than the closing and locking of her front door and the barricades should anyone attempt to break in before she unwrapped the parcel the doctor had given her. He had placed three thin, round breads which looked to be unleavened and made with flour and water only, she assumed. A few slices of dried meat which certainly  _smelled_  like cured pork from her thorough investigation and two tea bags. That night, or what happened to be bedtime for those within her catchment of floors so was actually six pm, Anna went to bed with a full stomach, properly satisfied for the first time in a long time.

* * *

“Undress behind the curtained area,” it was after 7 and Anna was in Robert Laing’s office-cum-home as she had been instructed. The split room hid his living quarters but medical propriety won out from his preference to not have this woman be in his personal space. He had taken a full medical history and done an exam to check blood pressure (low), listened to her heart and lungs (normal), felt her abdomen (no concerns) and checked her eyes (no visible issues).

It would have made sense to assume this might happen, but Anna hadn't considered it as an option and was caught off guard, hesitant to comply.

"Why do you need me to undress? Couldn't you start with somewhere like my arm?” 

As a doctor and head of department, Robert wasn’t accustomed to having to state his requests more than once and he wasn’t intending on starting today. The cases he oversaw were of a more complicated level than a generic General Practitioner would deal with and the human interaction he did have with was often with those who were grateful for his expertise, having been referred to him. 

It was the lack of response that made Anna feel discomfited, he didn’t say anything and just watched her expectantly. She had already taken her half of the deal, without discussing details or anything she would not be agreeable to doing she had consumed his food and now it was her turn to pay and she had no choice. At least, she didn’t feel that she did. Having stripped to her undergarments, neatly folding her clothing and placing them on a small corner free of debris, though not without dust, she didn’t know if Dr Laing had meant get down to nothing or if she could keep them on. Hoping it was the later, she walked around the partition in her underwear. Whilst she had been changing he had cleared the “desk” and placed a polythene sheet over the wood, that explained the rustling she had heard and why the room smelled of chemicals, antiseptic presumably, and hopefully, she thought. 

It wasn't cold but Anna had to clench her jaw to keep her body from trembling. She didn't care about being undressed, it was unfamiliar for her to be in such a position having avoided any GP’s the way she had most sexual partners but she was comfortable enough in herself. What made her feel ill at ease was that she had no layer to shroud her from the stare Anna knew she would see when she looked up.

"Do you want me to lie on my front or my back?" Anna stayed neutral and kept her gaze on the plastic sheeting.

Telling her to be on her back, Laing now understood the apprehension Anna had displayed; her body was marked with a series of healed and healing cuts. There wasn’t much in the way of scarring, only a few areas across her middle and chest held white lines, the skin there more delicate but the darker patches of melanin upon her upper legs showed areas which had healed over repeatedly. Her inner thigh housed a few angry lines, covered by crumbly looking scabs and looked no older than forty-eight hours. He was familiar with broken skin, he was the one in charge of causing it but this was new territory for him, these gossamer lines that puckered the pale skin tugged at something in him. Not revulsion, nor pity,but  something he couldn't identify.

"You didn’t tell me about these," there was no need to spell out the 'these' he was referring to.

Blinking a few times to gather her thoughts, Anna took a deep breath, "I don't see how what I do in my personal life has to do with you, Doctor Laing. If it is an issue for you then I will be happy to leave. You'll understand that I can't return what I've consumed but I didn't come for a lecture." 

The girl was clearly expecting a reprimand from him, unsurprising from the way Robert had broached the subject but he hadn't intended to make her feel that way.

"You’re correct, what you do does not concern me. It limits the areas in which I can work on as I can’t judge healing time or quality on skin which has knitted together numerous times."

Anna sat up, "Like I said, if it's a problem I’ll go." She didn't like the vulnerability of being on her back during this conversation.

"It isn't, I am explaining to you the situation not casting judgement. Please," he indicated to Anna to recline, which she did. "I’ll begin with a small area and the use of a topical numbing lotion. It would be interesting for me if I could observe how my work aligns with yours in terms of healing time," Robert ran a finger across one of the newer marks on Anna's left thigh catching her by surprise at his feather light touch. He traced the crusted line back and forth, a thoughtful expression settling upon his angular features at the textures he could feel under the pads of his digits. Anna's lips felt dry and she licked them several times, tensing her muscles at this alien but not horrible sensation on parts of her that even she did not explore once she was done marking them. It was unexpectedly sensual the care he was taking and Anna found she was holding her breath when a faint burning in her lungs caused her to exhale noisily. The bubble broken, Laing stepped back.


	2. Nothing Goes To Plan Because Plans Only Exist To Help The Well-To-Do’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whew long wait, huh. HR stories are by nature quite intense and this one was doubly so. I really will try not to leave it three months for the final chapter.
> 
> Also, yes, I insist on making headers for everything now. This one was a quick job as you can see the original here in the notes, it was about changing Elizabeth Moss so she didn’t look like much herself and looked chubby too (which is easier than adding a new woman like I did with Thomas and Evie in A New Man).  
> 

Gathering the necessary equipment, Robert's back was to Anna who turned her head to watch him but his broad shoulders in that pain spattered white shirt he always wore blocked most of her view and lying down didn't help, all she could make out was that he was bending forward, opening various drawers and pulling items out. The surface in front of him had also been sterilised when he had done the table Anna was on top of and Laing placed each instrument required on the clean, plastic sheeting. Once he had assembled all he would need, which included a disposable scalpel that was undisturbed in its sterile packaging with a Swann-Morton No.10 blade at the end, Laing arranged them in order. A sealed monofilament nylon and needle pack was further along the line of items and beside the scalpel he'd placed the lidocaine spray that he would be using to anesthetise the location first. Nearest the needle were the tissue forceps, a needle holder and scissors to snip excess thread and finally there was a packet of steri-strips. He would use the deep mustard yellow PVP-I with a cotton bud to prep the area, due to its small size he wouldn't require much but before he went any further Laing returned to Anna's side and ran a finger above the unmarked and plump flesh along her ribcage on the left side while still ungloved, it was a few inches below her bra covered chest.

"As I've explained I am going to numb this section, once the lidocaine has taken effect I will use a scalpel to make a single incision which I then will suture closed," he paused not for questions but giving the girl a final opportunity to change her mind, this would be a useless exercise to undertake if she would simply need to stop part-way through. It would be a waste of his time and of his limited supplies.

"Ok," Anna replied, tensing when his hand touched such a sensitive part of her, his digits warmer than she was and it felt pleasant to have contact with another human, she had to admit. It had been so long.

Dr. Laing covered part of her midriff with surgical draping, only as much as necessary to avoid waste now he was without hospital resources, the sterile sheeting had a hole in the the area he would be working on. Taking the bottle of xylocaine Laing sprayed the spot, a thin mist of liquid covering where he’d aimed. Whilst he waited the necessary time before he could proceed with the next steps he uncapped the iodine and poured a measure into a short, plastic cup and screwed the lid back on, returning it to the cupboard it lived in and whilst there plucked a pair of latex gloves and slid them over his large hands, which took a yellowed, sickly hue as if he were slowly dying, unaware he was becoming a corpse. Glancing at the stopwatch he had set, his own wristwatch was long broken and lost and the electronic clock in the apartment no longer worked, Laing noted it was time to begin and dipping the cotton stick in the liquid, he ran it atop the exposed flesh to clean it of both any general sweat and dirt and the anaesthetic mixture.

"Please stop clenching your body," Robert chastised her, tone matter of fact. Anna wanted to explain that this was odd, bordering on frightening and she couldn't help it but his closed off expression gave her pause, there wouldn’t be any point. Doing her best Anna relaxed herself, at least physically; her head and heart though remained running at a hundred miles per hour. 

Initially it felt like a light pressure, and Anna wondered were these his fingers still or was he cutting her - this was completely different to what she did to herself. It lacked the rollercoaster of tumultuous emotions followed by serene relief, numbing in its own way much the way the spray had and settling her mind. No, here she was completely aware of everything and strangely squeamish and unable to look, instead concentrating on the sharp planes of Robert’s face as a distraction.

Blood pooled to the surface as Laing deftly ran the scalpel on the desensitised zone while the cotton swab which was  pinched in the swabbing forceps in his left hand dabbed at it, there wasn't much as he was not cutting deep. More he could tell than her own lacerations and into the hypodermis, but not extensively so. As Anna clotted, Laing placed a gelatin sponge to the wound to encourage hemostasis and tidied what he was finished with before approaching her.

“Could you tell me the date and your full name?" he asked to ensure she was still coping well and she answered mostly correctly, although the date she gave was not quite accurate but it made sense few people beyond himself were actively aware of such things in the High Rise. When it came to the stitches he would be performing running subcuticular sutures which would leave the visible skin flat, all the stitching would be done under and the nylon could be tied off and snipped once healed and pulled through, leaving less risk of scarring from various entry points the way a simple interrupted suture might. He worked in silence, placing a single epidermal stitch at the mid-point to allow removal to be less traumatic to the tissue when pulled through and steri-strips were placed over the wound, with the knot being made above the adhesive strip. Working swiftly but carefully, Laing’s memory muscles were making all of this effortless and the worry he'd faced that his skills may have begun to atrophy were proving to not be the case at all, at least with such a simple procedure. Finishing, Laing laid another layer of the strips over the knots, their job was to keep the skin together and in these less than sterile surroundings stop the contact of anything unclean getting under the surface and interrupting the healing process. 

“Come back tomorrow,” Robert was speaking to her now she was dressed and back on his side of the partition. “Leave yourself covered and if you wash, don’t get the area wet,” he reeled off. If she washed, everything might have fallen to hell but unlike many others, possibly the doctor himself although he seemed clean in himself his clothing was looking less than pristine, she still kept on top of being clean. Anna must have looked a mixture of offended crossed with anger because it was hastily added, though no apology extended, “if you cannot boil your water to sterilise it, I will provide you with some.”

”That’s fine, I can.”

”Very well. I’ll observe how you heal over the next few days before moving onto the next site which will be if not larger certainly deeper, perhaps wider or curved and in another location on your body,” she tried not to grimace at that, she didn’t want another injury; a worse one. But she didn’t want to starve and when she left it was with another package of foodstuffs in her arms.

* * *

Over the course of the following days and weeks, Anna would visit Robert daily. He would not always have her lie on his table, in fact many days would go by where all their exchange consisted of was him checking on her sutures or asking her questions of how she was healing and in return placing an amount of food to last the following twenty-four hours before she was once more inside 2505. True to his word, the wounds increased in size and difficulty and Anna found it increasingly difficult to look down at herself, the feel of the thread if she brushed against it unpleasant and nauseating.

* * *

Resting on her front, Anna was yet again clad in just her underwear as Laing cleaned her skin with saline first and then he intended to inject her with the anaesthetic and morphine solution, having already withdrawn the correct amount into the syringe. Scrunching her hands into fists, Anna felt the tears run from her eyes to the covered door-cum-table below, the stress of being used as an inanimate teaching doll was getting to her and it was reaching the point where her chest and stomach would twist painfully as she set out from her home to his.

There was a light trembling he found under his touch and Laing inclined his head to observe Anna, looking at her as a person and not as test subject, as a breathing dummy for him to practice upon. "Please get dressed," Laing spoke simply, almost kindly which was possibly the last straw for Anna who began to weep harder, sobs tearing themselves from her lips and she struggled to even dress once she had gotten up and walked round behind the room divider. Every time she tried to calm herself down, to stop the tears, they would erupt again to the point where once she had rejoined Robert she had hiccups from the failed attempts at stifling herself. "I have noticed that your own marks have increased, but we had discussed at your initial visit that as long as it did not interfere with what I required it was none of my concern. However, after today, I do not believe this arrangement is working."

"I'm sorry, I'll be better next time. It's just a bad day," Anna tried to reassure Robert, the words catching between hiccups.

"It is not my intention to distress you to the point where you're crying on my table, I'm sorry I've made my decision, it's what's best."

"Your decision, your decision for what's best consists of sending me to starve, do you understand that, do you care?" Anna got to her feet and didn’t yell but her face reflected anger and fear. Running out of his flat straight after, she collapsed once she was behind her own front door into a howling mess.

* * *

The following week, she didn't know what days they were but the sky went dark and lightened again seven times, passed in a haze. Anna had managed to save a small amount of supplies each day but what she had had finished by day four and that was with her eating so little she felt she might as well not have bothered. Even the tea which she had made last by brewing each bag two/three times was no more than flavourless brown water at this point and she had thrown the bags away so she didn't even have anything to keep herself warm inside in lieu of food except for water, which made the emptiness worse. She had not returned to 2505, not gone begging to a clearly indifferent man who would only tell her no again. It wasn't pride, if she believed she could change his mind and they could return to their agreement she would have, but of the little she knew of him, mostly from observation, Anna doubted Robert was a man whose decision wavered once his mind was set. 

Laing had recognised that expression of rage and fright from his sister's face, their father who never touched them with his hands but whose cruelty could be inflicted by way of his belt reflected the same way Alice’s had on Anna. Something which hadn’t happened to him in a decade occurred, he'd found that he began second guessing himself. Terminating their sessions had seemed the wisest course of action, he could not marry the idea of hurting someone unwilling with his oath and Laing had thought once he'd seen that she harmed herself that she would cope well with his proposal; Anna had been the first and only person who in discovering his terms of trade had not rejected the idea. His own supplies were not bottomless, he couldn't keep feeding the girl for nothing in return, his life and work had taught him that nothing was willingly given. But again, her face. The way she had tried to hide her initial crying.

The time to remove the last of the nylon threads had come that day and Laing planned to use the opportunity to assess if perhaps he had made a mistake, maybe they could reinstate things. Doubting that Anna would come to him he instead packed his medical bag with what he would need for a rare house call. Preparing to rap on the door he paused hearing noises inside, leaning forward to listen better when a shriek punctuated the air.

* * *

After a week it had become clear to Anna that she had two options, stay where she was and die or try to obtain food. Again. Dying wasn't an option, it never had been for her; she had spent her life cutting into her own skin to not die. Whilst the other residents had lapsed into violence and brutality, to varying degrees as even Robert had shown his true colours, she had not.

Trusty knife tucked inside her boots as before, Anna had gone in search but over a month since her last visit and the only things found inside the first supermarket on level fifteen was spoiled. Anything edible had been cleared and the fresh produce left over was crawling with maggots and flies, their lifecycle continuous as they consumed the rotten sugar and she would have vomited had her stomach not been empty, as it was Anna heaved several times. A second supermarket existed in the High Rise, this one was on floor thirty-five and despite her weary legs Anna climbed the stairs, resting every five flights with the knife out in case of an ambush. Luckily there was none, she did see a few other people but they too were keeping to themselves and from the looks of them they were also not meant to be on these higher storeys. It was less of a supermarket and more akin to a boutique with food elegantly laid out and wicker baskets instead of steel trolleys. Much like the other store this one did not contain any fresh produce, however unlike the fifteenth floor market this one did not contain decaying food. Within the aisles Anna spied a handful of workers, their skin marred with bruises; there might not be decomposing fruit but they certainly fulfilled the role of something disgusting that did not belong within the beautiful surroundings. Their despondency worked to her favour as she dodged their view and added tins of food inside the small backpack she had brought.

“You dirty little dilettante,” a male voice called out startling Anna into dropping the box of organic muesli she’d held and she felt a tight grip clamp her forearm. He was pale, short and brown haired with a pinched face that she could tell would still be there even if he hadn’t been sneering. Using her shoulder to barge into him, her assailant fell over in surprise and Anna took off running toward the stairwell. Down was easier and quicker than up had been but she was panting, not used to exercise and the starvation mode her body had entered as it ate its own organs for sustenance made it worse. Heavy footfalls echoed behind her but Anna didn’t dare look back, ignoring his indignant calls for her to stop and the litany of insults flying from his mouth.

Floor twenty-five, she was almost safe, all she had to do was get to her flat and she would escape him. Hopefully. But he was fitter, well fed and had not been wandering up and down the building and it was as she unlocked her front door that he caught up to her, grabbing the back of her head by her hair and throwing her inside. Anna tried to take the knife from her boot, she had just managed to slip it out when the stranger batted at her arm and she dropped it with a clatter.

”How dare you attempt to steal from your betters you little bitch,” his blue eyes were wild with fury as he picked up the knife and stabbed it in Anna’s arm and she screamed in agony, crumpling to the ground as the door was kicked open and the last thing Anna saw before passing out was Robert running in and tackling the man.

“Munrow, you little shit,” Laing had straddled the smaller man, recognising the weasel like features of his previous student as he took his skull and beat it to the ground repeatedly, until the other man stopped moving, stopped breathing. Climbing off Munrow, Laing went to Anna’s side. Looking down himself with realised his shirt was too covered in sweat and grime to use on the wound, for the first time he wondered if this life was really for the best, if the choices he had made were the correct ones. It would waste less time to take her to his apartment than search and perhaps not find anything suitable either way to try and stave off the bleeding. Looping Anna’s arm around his neck to keep it elevated, he lifted her up. She was heavier than him, considerably so, but his daily rowing kept him in shape and he slowly made his way to the door resting on a single hinge with the girl in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did research the medical bits but bear in mind that I might not be accurate and some steps going into others did veer into guesswork so if you are a medical person I apologise, feel free to school me but don't feel obligated to, iyswim.

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever have, or you do now, or you will again: that’s ok and you’re ok, do what you need to ♥
> 
> Also, allow me to share this book which is about harm minimisation (where it’s safest to cut, how to clean up, etc.)  
> [Cutting The Risk](http://studymore.org.uk/ctr.pdf)
> 
> Allow me to add, and this is an odd thing to say I appreciate, but it's completely OK to just reply to this as the fiction it is, Anna is not a self insert we just happen to share a trait. My knowledge of some of this doesn't mean you have to treat me with kid gloves. If you have me on social media you already know that it happens and that my motto is 'it is what it is' because that's all it can be so if I have to pick, please give me cookies on the story I've crafted than what happens on my skin. Both is fine if you want but if it's a one or the other, then I hope you can enjoy the fiction and give my greedy little self comments on that, please. :-)


End file.
